Alive
by Lady September
Summary: Do you believe in heaven, Hermione?


**Title**: Alive  
**Author**: Louise  
**Rating**: K  
**Pairings**: Ron/Hermione  
**Spoilers**: Mentions of happenings in _Deathly Hallows_.  
**Disclaimers**: Nothing belongs to me. (I was younger when I wrote it.)  
**Published**: 11-24-07  
**Updated**: 10-17-11

**Summary**: Do you believe in heaven, Hermione?

* * *

**:: Alive ::**

"Do you believe in heaven, Hermione?"

Hermione barely even glanced up at the eleven-year-old boy in front of her. "No," she answered simply, and continued to write on her Potions homework. "And you should probably start working on the essay, Ronald, it's due Wednesday and Professor Snape said –"

"I heard what he said!" said Ron quickly, before Hermione could start one of her rants. Even though they were friends now, he still thought the rants were a bit annoying. "Why don't you believe in heaven?" he asked after a moment of silence, curiously.

"Because no one can prove it exists," the young witch answered as she flipped through the pages of her schoolbooks. "Now be quiet, Ronald. I have to concentrate and I can't if you're asking me questions.

She mumbled something to herself, then, bent down over the parchment and began to scribble down notes about the potion in question, effectively putting an end to their conversation.

Ω

"Do you believe in heaven, Hermione?"

He asked the same question again, three years later, sitting under the tree by the lake. Harry lifted his head to stare at him, clearly amused, but he chose to ignore his best mate in favour of the witch he was watching. He studied Hermione carefully, taking in every little detail of her. He'd cut her off half-way through a sentence about how they should care about more than simply Quidditch. She was speechless, for once; surprised that he had interrupted her.

"I – what?" She blinked, gathering herself. "Do I believe in heaven? What kind of question is that?" She must've realised that he wasn't oing to give up until he'd gotten his answer, so she shrugged. "No, I have to say I don't. Heaven? Up in the sky with a God and angels? No, I don't really think so, Ron."

He simply smiled, and continued to watch her.

Ω

"Do you believe in heaven, Hermione?"

His voice was quiet and filled with sorrow as he whispered the words into her hair at Dumbledore's funeral. Hermione had cried. He'd fought tears himself, a failing battle, and his cheeks were wet. The question rolled over his lips before he even realised it had.

"I want to," she whispered in return as she clung to him. "I want to."

He held her, took comfort in the feeling of being close to her. She might not know it yet, but he'd found comfort in her for the longest time now. He wasn't quite sure of when those feelings had started, but he knew. He _knew_.

Ω

"Do you believe in heaven, Hermione?" he asked a year later, right after he'd returned to them.

He only did it to take her mind of more worrying things, and it seemed to do the trick well. Harry had gone to bed early, and she was still angry but he was trying to make amends. The world was quiet around them as they sat together outside of the tent in the cold.

She sighed and ran a hand through her already messy hair. "Heaven?" she murmured thoughtfully. "I wish I could believe in heaven, but I don't. It's just utterly impossible that everyone comes to the same place after they've died and that everyone's happy there – what would be the point of dying in the first place, then?"

He chuckled quietly at her response, the first time in months that sound had crossed his lips. She'd always been able to make him laugh.

(She'd always been able to make him roll his eyes, too.)

Ω

Hermione was sitting across the table from him, looking as amused as Harry did. He'd asked her again, quite unexpectedly, wondering if the answer had changed since the last time he'd asked. This time, far away from the danger and thrill of their past, she felt the need to comment.

"What _is _your obsession with heaven, Ron?" she asked, shaking her head.

He smiled. "I'm just wondering," he answered matter-of-factly. "Can't I ask my girlfriend a simple question?"

She blushed; they had only recently admitted to the rest of Ron's family that they were a couple, and their moments were usually stolen ones. (Hermione deserved more, he knew.) Ron knew that hearing that word, even if they had known each other for seven long years and were closer than anyone else could possible imagine, still made her somewhat uneasy.

"Fine, then, if you want your answer," she said, giving the restof the family a quick glance. No one save Harry seemed to be listening, and he quickly turned away, recognising the need for privacy. She relaxed slightly. "I still feel the same about heaven as I did all the other times you asked me." She rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to prove that heaven exists. So, no, I don't believe in heaven. I don't believe in an afterlife."

"And if I could prove to you that heaven existed?"

That took her by surprise. He liked catching her off-guard. "You –" she begun, but then collected herself. "Alright. Let's see if you can prove to me that heaven exists, you idiot."

Her voice was laced with fondness, despite her choice of words, and that made all the difference.

As soon as dinner was finished, he went straight to his room. His hands shook as he scribbled down a sentence on a piece of paper, but he smiled nonetheless and hoped it would work. Returning downstairs with the note neatly folded in his pocket, he asked if she wanted to go on a walk. She looked slightly surprised, but she agreed and followed him outside. He caught her hand in his, slowly entwining their fingers.

"It's a lovely night, isn't it?" she said softly after a while as they walked, still hand in hand. Her eyes were trained on the stars and the moon and she barely noticed where he led her until they stood in front of the little lake. She gasped. "Oh, Ron – this place is stunning!"

He had to agree. The water reflected the moonlight in a beautiful way.

"I've got something for you," he said in a murmur and the hand not connected to hers found the note in his pockets, his fingers closing around the piece of paper as he brought it out. He held it out to her and she distangled her hand from his to take it. Puzzled, she looked at him for a moment, before she unfolded th note and read the words. Her eyes widened. "I love you, 'Mione," he breathed.

She clutched his note in her small hand, and he smiled.

His blue eyes met her brown ones, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to him.

_Heaven is not a place where you go when you die. It is that moment in life where you actually feel alive._

Having to make sure that she felt the same way, he broke the kiss and gazed down at her. "How do you feel?" he whispered, his voice catching in his throat, and even after all this time he was afraid of her answer.

He needn't be.

"Alive."


End file.
